


Too Close To The Sun

by storiesinthedark



Series: Of All The Gin Joints [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Graphic Description of Corpses, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesinthedark/pseuds/storiesinthedark
Summary: Boston summers can be pleasant when they want to be pleasant. But, of course, today is not one of these days. Today, the sun has decided to beat down with no cloud cover, which if Tuukka Rask had the day off, he would not complain about. But, he doesn’t have the day off.





	Too Close To The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan on writing a sequel or anything to _Come In From The Cold_. It was originally intended to be a one-shot. But, not long after I wrote it, I was asked some meta about it (you can read that [here](https://storiesinthedark.tumblr.com/post/181458613053/16-and-46-for-come-in-from-the-dark-please), and then the sequel idea never left. So, this story is the result of that. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!
> 
> -M

Boston summers can be pleasant when they want to be pleasant. But, of course, today is not one of those days. Today, the sun has decided to beat down with no cloud cover, which if Tuukka Rask had the day off, he would not complain about. But, he doesn’t have the day off. 

He carries his light spring trench coat over his arm, which he needed this morning when he left his house, but now finds it useless in the rising temperature. He should know better. He should have left it at the office when he was called out to investigate. He didn’t think this all the way through. 

The officer who found the body, McAvoy he thinks his name is--he really should actually learn all their names-- is waiting for him just on the other side of the police tape. He shakes his head when he sees Tuukka approach. 

“Another to add to your file on this guy,” McAvoy says. 

Tuukka smiles in that awkward way he knows is off-putting to just about everyone so that they’ll leave him alone on this. “Great.” 

He ducks under the police tape and he’s prepared for what he’s going to find. He’s seen it all before. There in the middle of the floor of the Cambridge walkup is a young woman, she looks to be twenty-five if he had to guess, she always is. Her fingertips are wrapped with guitar string and she has a slit throat. There’s a small pool of blood just near her neck and what looks like a smear of blood near the woman’s hair as if someone had run their fingers through the pool by her neck. 

He takes a deep breath as he pulls on his gloves before crouching down and reaching to the woman’s throat. He carefully traces the slit, it’s not a clean cut, a dull average chef’s knife if he had to guess. Then he moves to her left index finger to examine the guitar strings, which haven’t cut all the way through her fingers as far as he can see.

He straightens up and leaves the photographer --Grzlecyk, he thinks that may be right...though it doesn't really matter -- to continue photographing the scene while he walks the perimeter of the room. He moves slowly, analyzing everything. How it’s all been laid out. The lamp on the hall table is knocked over and the bulb has been shattered on the floor as if there had been a struggle. 

He takes a breath, and removes his gloves, tossing them into the garbage. Then, he nods to the police officials in the room before stepping outside and pulling out a phone that looks like it’s from a decade ago from his pocket. A burner.

He doesn’t want to make this call. He shouldn’t have to make this call, but something about this crime scene is wrong. He dials the number quickly from memory and ducks back under the police tape, heading toward his car. McAvoy looks like he wants to ask a question as he leaves, but Tuukka ignores him. This is more important. The phone rings until finally, someone picks up. 

“Hello?” A deep raspy voice says. 

“You aren’t in Boston,” Tuukka says. 

“No,” the voice replies.

“That’s what I thought,” Tuuka says, opening the car door and sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Why?” the voice asks. 

“We have a copycat,” Tuuka replies, his voice unwavering. “A bad one, but a copycat.”

“I see,” the voice says. “Collect Charles. 12 hours.” 

The line goes dead and Tuuka takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the headrest, eyes falling shut. 

He’s not sure how long he’s sitting there before there’s a sharp rap on the driver’s side window. It startles Tuuka awake and he rolls down the window to see McAvoy leaning down to talk to him. 

“Yes?” Tuuka says. 

“Is everything ok, sir?” McAvoy asks. 

“That’s none of your concern,” Tuuka replies. “I have to go.” He gives the young officer a terse smile and then rolls the window up before the man has the opportunity to say anything else. He starts the car and quickly pulls away from the scene.   
  
  


It’s five in the morning and he’s sitting in the office, rearranging the pens on his desk by color for the sixth time since he got back to the office. He hasn’t left since he returned from the crime scene. Everyone else has been gone for hours, telling him he should leave and sleep, that the local authorities have things under control for now and that this is just a small piece in the larger case in the hunt for his serial killer. 

It’s not.

He’s filled out all of the current paperwork to make the proper indication that this isn’t the same killer that he’s been chasing for the last seven years, but he hasn’t turned it in yet. He needs to do something first. Needs to be sure before setting the bureau out to hunt a different killer.

He finishes putting the last blue pen in the proper place when his burner beeps, the screen lighting up the mostly dark office. He looks over at it sitting illuminated on his desk before finally picking it up and opening the latest received text. 

It’s a blocked number. He’s not surprised by this. The message reads, ‘How smooth they are and quick to interchange’ and Tuukka presses his lips together before pocketing the phone and making his way toward the elevator. 

He walks quickly to his car, his personal one, not his department-issued one, and he pulls out of the parking lot more aggressively than he would like to admit. He knows where he’s heading. The emergency measures are in place for a reason, but he wishes on the entire drive over to the hotel that he didn’t have to use them. 

  
  


The drive takes about thirty minutes and he parks the car on the street a few blocks away so as to not raise any suspicion, and then quickly walks the five blocks to the hotel. 

He bypasses the desk, as he always does, and hits the button for the fourteenth floor, riding the elevator up with a woman dressed in a silk dress, who looks to be coming back from a night out, and a man who looks like he’s forgotten something in his room and is trying to rush back. He stands as far behind the two of them as he can, trying to avoid being seen by the camera in the elevator. He’s been careful so far to avoid any notice, so why take the risk. 

The elevator dings and Tuukka exits as quickly as he can, keeping his head down and not saying anything to the other two people in the elevator as he gets out. Then, he quickly finds room 1470 and knocks three times. 

It takes a moment for the door to open, but once it does Tuukka steps through immediately and shuts it firmly behind him. 

“It seems we have a problem,” the man inside the room says, smiling.

“Yes, indeed we do,” Tuukka replies. 

The man moves forward toward Tuukka and pushes him back against the door before pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. 

“Braden,” Tuukka breathes when they pull apart. “How did this happen?” 

Braden turns and walks into the main part of the hotel room. “It was only a matter of time,” he says. “I’m honestly surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” He sits on the bed and stares up at Tuukka, his expression calm and collected as always.

“What do you mean?” Tuukka says, frustration lacing his voice as he follows Braden. 

“There are always copycats. It was only a matter of time,” he responds. “The better question is what we’re going to do about it.” 

“What we’re going to do about it? We? Braden, you can’t help with this,” Tuukka says. He looks around the room, which looks standard for a hotel room if not a little less extravagant from Braden’s usual selections, and spots a chair in the corner. He makes his way to sit in it, rubbing his forehead as he collapses into the chair. “If you get caught, I don’t…” 

“You don’t what?” Braden starts, eyes surveying Tuukka’s position in the chair, calculating everything. “You don’t know what you’d do if I got caught? Please. You know exactly what you would do. You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment.” 

Braden pushes himself off the bed and stands in front of Tuukka, staring down at him. He licks his lips. “You’re breaking the rules of the agreement.” 

“Maybe I am,” Tuukka responds. “Maybe I have been for a while. You’ve broken them too.” 

Braden takes a deep breath and sighs. “It’s not the same. Tuukka, the rules exist for a reason--” 

“I know--” 

“I won’t let you break any more of them.” Braden braces himself on Tuukka’s shoulders as he straddles his lap. He leans in and presses his lips to Tuuka’s and Tuukka can’t help but let his hands move to Braden’s waist, pulling Braden impossibly closer. 

They pull apart, gasping for breath, and Tuukka reaches his hand into Braden’s hair. It’s longer than the last time the saw each other, but still just as soft. Braden smirks at him and his heart flutters. “What do you want?” he asks. 

“You. Clothes off and in that bed,” Braden replies. 

“Ok,” Tuukka replies. 

“And what do you want?” Braden asks, not yet moving from Tuukka’s lap. 

Tuukka looks away and runs his tongue over his lips. “You,” he says. “Just you. No distractions.” 

Braden chuckles. “Done.” He pushes himself off of Tuukka and walks toward the bed in the room, taking off his sweater and white button-down shirt in the process. He reaches the bed, and Tuukka can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he watches Braden remove his pants and begin crawling toward the headboard. He situates himself there and Tuukka still hasn’t moved from the chair, but Braden calls him over with a curl of his fingers and Tuukka can’t even describe how quickly he’s on his feet. 

He crawls up the bed and straddles Braden’s legs, feeling Braden’s bare erection pressing against his still clothed thigh and he lets out a muffled groan. 

“I thought I asked for no clothes,” Braden huffs, reaching up and beginning to unbutton Tuukka’s shirt. 

“You did,” Tuukka responds. “I’m sorry. I got distracted.” 

Braden surges up and captures his mouth in a quick and heated kiss. “I’ll let it slide for now, but don’t let it happen again,” he says. “Now, the rest of your clothes. Off.” 

Tuukka nods and takes a deep breath. He pushes himself up off of Braden and peels his pants and boxers from his legs and shrugs out of the unbuttoned shirt, leaving him entirely exposed. Braden looks him up and down, swipes his tongue over his lips, and then crawls forward pulling Tuukka down on top of him. 

Tuuka runs his hands through Braden’s hair and leans down to kiss him, the kiss much gentler than any of the others. Braden growls when Tuuka pulls away. “None of that,” he says, and he flips them, straddling Tuuka’s hips. 

His cock is hard and starting to leak precome onto his stomach, and Braden is sitting above him, looking like he’s going to eat him. Braden smirks. “Ready?” he asks. He waits for Tuuka to nod in response and then moves quickly down Tuuka’s body taking his cock into his mouth in one smooth motion. 

Tuukka lets out a gasp followed by a moan as Braden’s warm mouth moves quickly up and down on his cock. He fists his hands in the pristine white bed sheets and lets his eyes fall shut, letting the sensation overwhelm him. And then, Braden stops, holding his cock in his mouth, but he doesn’t move. Tuukka can feel Braden’s eyes on him and he forces himself to open his eyes and look down.

Braden pulls off his cock with a wet pop and runs the back of his hand over his mouth. “I want your eyes on me,” he says. 

Tuukka takes a deep breath and nods. “Ok,” he says. “Can I--” 

“Can you what?” Braden coaxes him to continue. 

“Can I put my hands in your hair?” Tuukka asks. He’s never asked as Braden usually has his hands tied. But, this time things are different. They’re meeting under different circumstances, so Tuukka asks. 

Braden smirks. “Sure,” he says. “Still ok?” 

“Yes,” Tuukka responds, trying to even out his breathing, but not succeeding. 

“Good,” Braden says as he ducks his head back down and takes Tuukka back into his mouth. 

The sudden warms surrounding him cock again makes Tuukka tense, but he quickly relaxes and this time he moves his hands into Braden’s hair, gently tugging on the strands. He stares up at the ceiling, willing his eyes to stay open, to not disobey what Braden wants. 

Braden moans around his cock and the vibrations travel up his spine in a way that makes his entire body buzz. Another low moan escapes his from deep in his throat, and Braden chuckles around his cock again sending a different, but no less pleasant set of vibrations up Tuukka’s spine.

Braden’s movement isn’t repetitive and that’s the only thing keeping Tuukka on edge. He’s come so close only for Braden to change what he’s doing and the building pressure subsides minutely. He loves the feeling of Braden’s hair between his fingers and he tugs gently, urging Braden to go faster, and use more pressure and suction. Braden understands and speeds up, adding his hand to the bottom of Tuukka’s cock that he hasn’t taken into his mouth. 

Tuukka moans, gasping for breath. “Braden,” he tries, finally looking down at Braden. “I--” 

Braden pulls off his cock with a wet pop, but his hand keeps working his cock up and down, the pressure never fading. “Go ahead,” Braden says, and then he swallows Tuukka’s cock once more. 

The pressure grows quicker, and he feels his balls start to tighten, Braden must feel it too as he moves his hand from the bottom of Tuukka’s cock and begins to lightly massage his balls. Tuukka moans forcing his eyes to stay open and focused on Braden. His breath comes in shorter and shorter bursts until he’s coming in thick spurts down Braden’s throat. 

Braden swirls his tongue around the head of his cock and pulls off with a soft wet pop, running index finger and thumb across his lips to make sure he doesn’t have anything on his face. Tuukka watches him and then falls back onto the bed feeling boneless in a way that Braden always seems to make him. He gestures for Braden to come and lay with him, and for the first time since their arrangement began, Braden obliges Tuukka’s request, curling up carefully along his side. 

“Do...do you--” Tuukka starts. 

“I’m fine,” Braden counters knowing the question before it even leaves Tuukka’s mouth. “I’m fine for now.” 

“Ok,” he says. 

  
  


They lay together in silence for long moments, only their breathing and the sounds of the hotel around them in the air. It’s comforting in a way that Tuukka wouldn’t have imagined it to be. 

“You stayed,” Tuukka says. It’s not a question, but the underlying question of ‘why’ hangs with the weight of those words. 

“I did,” Braden replies. “The circumstances aren’t the same. We have things to do.” 

“What things do we have to do?” Tuukka asks, and Braden smirks. 

“We’re going to catch a criminal,” Braden says. 

“Braden,” Tuukka says. “You can’t...” 

“I can’t what? I plan to help you,” Braden says, rolling on top of Tuukka and bracketing him with his arms. 

Tuukka presses his lips together. “And what if you get caught?” 

“Why would I get caught? I don’t plan on murdering anyone while I’m helping,” Braden says with a smirk. “Besides. You’ve gotten good at covering my trail over the years.”

Tuukka takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “It breaks every rule in the agreement,” he says. “We have the rules for a reason. If we break them now--” 

“Fuck the rules,” Braden interrupts. “If we don’t break them, someone will put the pieces together faster and we’ll have a bigger problem.” He pushes himself up from the bed and walks toward the bathroom, the sink water turning on almost immediately. 

Tuukka groans and then relents, sitting up and looking toward the bathroom at the naked standing in front of the mirror splashing water on his face. “Fine,” he says. “But, new rules.” 

Braden looks back at him and smiles. “Deal.”


End file.
